


Warranted Reprisals: Alternate Ficlet

by Strings (fangirlgeekout)



Series: Wordless Interruptions [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dom Castiel, Dom/sub Undertones, Handcuffs, Human Castiel, M/M, Post-Season/Series 08, TWP - Tickles Without Plot, Tickling, Ticklish Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 19:36:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2400368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirlgeekout/pseuds/Strings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel takes advantage of handcuffs.</p><p>---</p><p>  <i>Cas growled and grabbed Dean’s shoulder, and with one swift, strong motion (Dean didn’t even think he had strength like that anymore since being human, holy crap) flipped him onto his back. He grunted and shifted his wrists to minimize the digging of the handcuffs into his back.</i></p><p>  <i>And shit. Cas’ eyes were dark, pupils dilated out wide, and the way he was looking at Dean was positively feral. Dean forgot how to breathe for a second while he tried to parse whether he was thoroughly terrified or hopelessly aroused.</i></p><p>  <i>“Don’t move.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Warranted Reprisals: Alternate Ficlet

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know what to call this. I sort of consider it an ‘alternate scene’ from Warranted Reprisals, though the ambiance is totally different. Seemed worthwhile enough to tack it on to this series.
> 
>  **This was done as part of a speedwriting challenge on Tumblr.** Therefore it was written quickly, edited minimally, and just sort of floats out there by itself with no real setup or tidy ending. Italics are heavily abused.

[ _Imagine there’s a nicely written paragraph here, seamlessly setting the scene of Dean’s room at the bunker, said hunter lying facedown and shirtless on his bed, wrists cuffed behind his back, with our favorite humanized angel perching over him. He’s just said something Cas couldn’t quite hear, but it sounded snarky._ ]

Castiel leaned in, hunching low and bloodthirsty right at the back of Dean’s neck. His breath was hot.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Heh, nothing.”

Cas  _growled_  and grabbed Dean’s shoulder, and with one swift, strong motion (Dean didn’t even think he  _had_  strength like that anymore since being human, holy crap) flipped him onto his back. He grunted and shifted his wrists to minimize the digging of the handcuffs into his back.

And  _shit_. Cas’ eyes were dark, pupils dilated out wide, and the way he was looking at Dean was positively  _feral._  Dean forgot how to breathe for a second while he tried to parse whether he was thoroughly terrified or hopelessly aroused.

“Don’t move.”

Damn, that  _voice_  of his was  _not fair_. And that tight-lipped mouth was starting to twist up at one side. Dean realized his own jaw was hanging a bit slack and tried to correct it. He wriggled his trapped arms a bit more, and just took in how Cas _watched_  him, like a predatory cat watched its prey twitch before deciding when and how to strike. He was Castiel’s  _plaything_. God _dammit_ , he was so screwed in so many awesome ways.

“I said  _don’t move_ ,” Cas purred, and traced his index fingers down Dean’s biceps. It was all he could do not to shudder. He kind of wanted to fidget again, just to see what would happen. But then Cas’ mouth was at his neck, nuzzling and nipping and  _smelling_  at his pulse point, and Dean tilted his head further back, stretching his throat without really knowing why. He just knew he wanted to  _feel_ Cas, the way Cas  _watched_ him.

The fallen angel snuffled at the crook near his collarbone, and Dean couldn’t help it, he scrunched up. Cas drew back and fixed him with another  _look_.

“What did I say?”

 _Fuck_. He was pretty sure that  _shouldn’t_  make him want to simultaneously bite back with a witty comment but also lay perfectly still like a good little playing-dead prey animal.

Castiel ducked back in at his shoulder and snuffled again, adding to the breathy sensations with a dry brush of lips. Dean shivered and sucked his own lower lip between his teeth. He would have succeeded in complying with Cas’ request, except there was suddenly a light flickering touch down at the opposite side of his waist. He clamped his mouth shut before any sound came out, but his torso twitched. This time, Cas didn’t stop and look down at him, just continued mouthing and dragging his fingertips over his bare skin. He  _knew_  he was tickling, right? They’d played too much not to know exactly what they were doing to each other with any given touch.

 _Oh_. That was the challenge. A very unfair, very… something that was fighting that terrifying/arousing designation… challenge. Dean was immediately aware of each inch of open skin that was readily available to his predator. And how the position of his arms behind his back pushed up on his spine, arching his torso in the opposite direction he’d want it to go. Or maybe exactly how he  _did_  want it to go. Christ. He’d never been so confused in his life as this whole situation was making him.

Cas was nibbling further out along the top of his shoulder while his fingers trailed low across his belly, slowly and oh-so-gently wiggling as they went. Dean’s breath was shaky with the effort of repressing what was sure to be a giggle-moan. He realized there had been no instructions about sound instead of movement, but it was all-or-nothing for him - once one dam broke, everything would flood.

And wow, Cas was  _not_  making this easy. His mouth was trekking steadily along, nipping and  _licking_  down Dean’s bicep before cutting over to his chest just above his nipple. The hand that hadn’t previously been busy came up and threaded roughly into his hair, while the other set of tickly fingers started walking up toward his ribcage.

“ _Shit, Cas,_ ” he breathed without even realizing, and the next exhale came with a stuttered giggle when blunt fingernails scraped over his lowest rib.

And just like that, Cas’ lips were on his, warm and thorough and demanding. It would have been quite nice, except ten fingertips were also suddenly focused along the sides of his stomach. Dean squeaked into Cas’ mouth as his torso jolted, and he could have sworn Cas smiled for a second, but then it was all business again. Fingers tickled across his arched belly, and Dean was gone, squirming and giggling and  _his face was being pinned down by aggressive kissing_  and oh god he totally lost the challenge but maybe it wasn’t so bad and then  _Cas was growling again_ , deep and rumbling into his mouth, down his throat, vibrating into his chest, mingling with his laughter.

Damn, he’d have to leave these handcuffs laying around more often.


End file.
